


A Kitten And A Soldier

by ThatDamnKennedyKid



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Arranged Marriage, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes-centric, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Female Tony Stark, Forced Marriage, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Older Man/Younger Woman, Past Tony Stark/Tiberius Stone, Past Underage, Physical Abuse, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sexual Abuse, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-11 17:57:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15321081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDamnKennedyKid/pseuds/ThatDamnKennedyKid
Summary: Bucky hadn't heard from Rumlow in years - since the whole Winter Soldier fiasco in Siberia. They've been discharged for nearly six years, but when he gets a message that only says "I need your help" , he grabs his jacket and keys.





	1. A Soldier's Darling

It felt like forever ago, now. 

The Howling Commandos had been a black Ops group, sent in where others couldn't go without sanction. Their very last official mission had been to the Ukraine, eight years ago. 

They'd been looking for an oligarch, rumoured to be funding MOSIL. Their mission was to retrieve, nothing else. But his position was heavily fortified, and they'd had to fight their way to him. he'd blown up part of the building and Bucky"d been lost under the rubble. The oligarch's allies found him that way, armless and dying, and removed him. 

It took Steve two years to find him, a tortured husk in a old war bunker in Siberia. He'd been large and strong, but blank-eyed and hollow. His cage had read  _Winter Soldier_ above the door, and his lost arm had been replaced with a metal bionic limb. As soon as he was cleared for duty, the entirety of the Howling Commandos were honourably discharged, their files blacked out and Bucky given a military pension that would feed and house any family he might have for ten years after he died. 

Since then, most of the Commandos had gone home, lost contact specifically with him once he got a job and more stable. Rumlow had cut ties with him immediately, being one of the strike team members to get attacked by him when the Colonel in charge had rightfully feared Steve's wrath. That changes a person. 

So, when Bucky picked up his cell phone to find Brock's name on the display, he was rightfully confused. 

"Brock?"

"Barnes, I need your help."

He grabbed his jacket and keys. "Where?"

"My place. Same address. Hurry."

Brock hung up, but that didn't matter. Bucky was in his Jeep already, the phone in the passenger seat. 

* * *

He rapped on Rumlow's door and the man immediately answereed.

"This way."

He followed Brock into the house, pocketing his keys. In Brock's bedroom, wrapped gently in white sheets and head pillowed, was a woman with dark hair fanned out around her. Her face was broken and bleeding. 

"What the Holy fuck." Bucky whispered, eyes wide with shock. He couldn't even tell how old she was, the bruising had disfigured her so much. 

"I was friends with this guy in college, Tiberius Stone." Rumlow explained, looking equal parts pained and disgusted. "I guess, he was having sex with a girl from an important family or whatever. To cover up the scandal, they married her off to him. That's her there. He was a jackass in college, regular douche frat bro. But this . . . he called me because I had field medical training in the Forces. He wanted me to cover it up, help her recover out of the public eye. Barnes, I can't give her back to him. She's twenty-two and they've been married _seven years_."

"Is she safe to be moved?"

"She's concussed and severely beaten. No broken bones or lacerations as far as I can tell." Rumlow rubbed the back of his neck. "Please, Bucky, you've gotta take her. He knows all my friends but he doesn't know about you. You're her best chance at escape. You can protect her while she can't. I know you can."

He nodded, hair falling in his face. "Her name?"

"Tony."

"Okay."

"You've gotta take her now. He'll be back here shortly, had a meeting or something. You've gotta go immediately."

"Help me put her in the back of my Jeep and I'll vanish."

* * *

She only moved to breathe and moan in pain. Bucky sat next to her the rest of the night and we'll into the next morning, tending to her as gently as he could. 

The phone rang and he pulled it up. Brock, again. 

"He's on the move, looking for her. Told him she woke up and escaped. Keep her low profile for the next couple of months."

"Understood. She'll disappear."

A broken laugh pulled him away from staring at the device. 

"Ty finally hired someone to kill me? About fucking time."

Bucky rushed to her bedside, smoothing his flesh hand through her hair. "No, doll. That's not what I'm here for."

"What do you want, then? I'm a little too torn up right now to be much use to anyone Ty would consider a friend."

"He's lucky I don't know what he looks like, or I would rip his throat out with my teeth and piss in it until he drowned." He snarled, ferocious Russian rising to his lips before he tramped it back down.

"That's a little aggressive for someone you don't even know."

He reached up and pet through her hair. Her race's swelling had gone down with help from his scarring ointments and it wasn't likely she would be left with visible damage. "I'm a soldier. My career is fighting for people I don't know. Or, I was, I guess."

She blinked at him from her one good eye, sighing heavily. "What's your name, then?"

"Bucky."

"I'm Tony." She winced as she tried to move. He gently pushed her back onto the bed. 

"Don't move. You're black and blue all over. Let me get you some pain mess, then we'll get you into a tub."

She nodded mutely, doing as he bid a little listlessly. 

He'd never known an abuse victim, but he knew torture, and from his perspective, it was much the same. Standing at the kitchen counter, he poured the medication into the palm of his metal hand, chanting his calm word over and over again. 

"Ice, ice, ice, ice, ice." He breathed. They used to immerse him in it to get him to calm down, and now he found cold sensations very soothing. Peaceful. The word helped ground him when he was out of his depth and this was certainly one of those times. 

He grabbed a cup and filled it with cold water, taking the pills and headed back to his room. 

She was still laying there, quiet and still, but awake. 

"Here. These will help with the pain. After your bath, I'll get you something for the bruises and cuts."

"Who did you know?"

"Hmm?"

"Who told you about me?"

"Oh. A man I knew back in the day. Rumlow."

She seemed surprised, as much as the bruising would allow. "You know Brock?"

"I served with him. Good man. We seen some bad shit together."

"Bucky." She ruminate for a moment. "You're James Barnes!"

He winced. "Yeah."

"He always spoke highly of the Howling Commandos. You and Steve were apparently quite the duo on the field."

He snorted. "I was a sniper and Steve's an idiot. He would run ahead and draw all their fire, then I would blow their heads off."

She swallowed the pills, hand shaking a little as she held the glass. "Sounds very similar to how he explained it."

"Yeah."

"He doesn’t mention you in the later stories, though."

He tugged on the sleeve of his red shirt self-consciously. "Some bad shit went down. That's the reason we're all stateside now."

"Like what?"

He looked down at his mismatched hands. "I was captured, sent to a . . . a facility instead of a POW camp. I spent two years there, and I . . . wasn't the same. I'm still not the same. Rumlow was one of the unfortunates who got to see it first-hand. He doesn't like to be reminded, so we don't talk. I understand."

She nodded. "And now?"

"We spent a lot of time in places the government wasn't supposed to be. Can't tell you how many slave and sex rings we broke up, everywhere from Portland to Alger to Beijing. Got somewhat of a soft-spot for a broken woman." He glanced up with a crooked smile. "One of our members, Natasha, was abducted as a baby to be sold at the age of ten. The former Howlies saved her and brought her back. She joined up at sixteen, with Peggy's permission, and hasn't looked back. She was never shy about sharing her experiences and it hit home with us. Rumlow was always pretty empathetic."

She glanced around the room. "He did mention Natasha. Her and Clint, right? They were a thing?"

"Clint was a mid-range sniper. Specialized in stealth Ops. He'd been an accountant in the Twin Towers when they fell. Called in sick with a fever the day of and was sleeping through the fall. He's legally deaf, so he's not allowed to engage in full combat, but he was a good fit for the Howlies."

"Did he ever have anybody?"

"Not until he met Natasha. They're together now, living out in New Jersey."

"And you?"

"No. I broke it off with the man I was seeing before I joined up, because he couldn't do long distance. Had a few scattered flings with men and women on downtime, but nothing major. No strings." 

"Not even back in the US?"

"I've not been right in the head since I came back." He hesitated for a moment, but bit the bullet. She would see it sooner or later, and if she was disgusted, he could give her to Steve and Peggy for safe-keeping. With a grunt, he pulled off his shirt. 

"Woah." She sat up despite her hiss of pain, reaching out with her uninjured hand to pet the metal. Scarring peeked out from under his undershirt, thick, ropey and pale. "Did the government do that?"

"My captors." He replied lowly, softly. It was a beautiful machine, gleaming like sterling silver in the gentle lighting. It was a cursed reminder he would never escape. 

"It looks like my dad sold my designs after all, then." She felt along his elbow, fingers catching on a latch. "Yup. This is one of mine."

"One of yours?" He asked, incredulous. 

She shrunk away, like she wasn't supposed to talk about her past. "Yeah."

"You sound really smart."

"I was." She looked down at the glass still in her other hand, playing with the rim.

"You can- You can tell me about it."

"It's okay. Not really important anymore."

He knew when he didn't like to be pushed. This was one of those times. "Do you want me to be in the room when you bath? Will you need help getting undressed?"

She tested the movement of her bruised arm and yelped. "Uh, definitely need help with the clothes. I'll probably need help getting clean, too."

"I can call Sharon. She doesn't live far from here. She can help you, if you're uncomfortable with me doing it."

"It's okay. You're fine." She chuckled darkly. "I'm not really body-conscious."

He nodded. "Just say the word, and I'll do whatever you need, whatever you want."

"Okay."

He shrugged off his undershirt too, meeting her questioning gaze. "You're going to be naked in front of me. Gotta even the playing field a little."

She nodded, offering her alright arm for him to help her up.

* * *

If her husband had of been in front of him when he got her in the tub, the man would have been hanging by his testicles over a pit of tar. The last time he'd seen something this bad, he'd been smashing in the face of the man running a joint Chinese-American sex trade operation. 

She'd taken several heavy blows to the right side of her face and shoulders, but a temple punch had knocked her to the floor. There was some road rash on the left side of her body, meaning she'd been dragged back by the ankle. She'd curled up, then, the right side of her body tanking some brutal punishment. Her back, in particular, had a difficult time. Her face and arms were purple, but her side, back and thigh were black and swollen. To the untrained eye, they might have assumed she had been hit by a pickup truck on a highway. 

But he knew. He knew what the patterns of human violence looked like. 

The ginger way she walked meant there was more damage inside, too, but he wouldn't press that issue. In his experience, violated women could only speak about that in their own due time. The phantom pain lingered longer there than other abuses. 

For her part, Tony just didn't acknowledge there was anything wrong with how she looked. Aside from her crooked gait and wincing, the little pants to breathe through the pain, she just carried on. 

"Yeah, I will definitely need help washing." She said, trying to test the mobility in her back and crying out. 

"Don't stress yourself. It'll make everything worse." He admonished softly, unhooking the showerhead and gently diverting water from her eyes. 

She was quiet for some time after that. He just washed her hair, lathering gently and making sure his metal hand applied almost no pressure. Abusers liked to pull hair, and he had no doubt her scalp would be sensitive. 

He rinsed it carefully, working in conditioner next. He was very careful to make sure the strands didn't catch in his metal fingers, smoothing out tangles as best he could. He debated whether he should use the loofah or wash cloth, but he figured the loofah would be better. He didn't have to apply any pressure to it to clean her skin. His Shea butter and vanilla body wash would have to do. 

"You've done this before." She spoke suddenly. 

He looked up from where he'd been gently washing her legs. His hair was falling in his eyes, curling from the damp heat. Hers was pushed back from when he'd been washing it, her lone eye focused intensely on him. 

"How can you tell?"

"You move like Rhodey and Pepper."

"Rhodey and Pepper?" 

"Friends of mine, from a while ago. They used to pick me up after he hit me, before he put a ring on my finger. Then he drove them away."

He took a deep breath, memories floating to mind. "The recovery forces weren't always timely. There was one sex ring along the Niger that we broke up, but the UN collectors who would get them to safety wouldn't reach us for three days. We had to help the women care for each other, bathe and cook. They spoke a dozen languages between them all, so we had to do a lot of our own communication through body language."

"Oh." She said softly. 

"We would take turns standing in the river to help them clean. They got skittish and afraid if the men took off their clothes, so Peggy and Natasha stood on the beaches, with their guns aimed at us, assuring the other women that if we misbehaved, we'd be killed. We wore full bodysuits the entire time we waited for evac, stinking in the heat of the day. Sam, one of our mission coordinators, sponsored the underage girls to come to the States. He runs a home in California for them with his wife and some women from local abuse shelters."

"Must make this seem like nothing." She mused. 

"No, it doesn't." He murmured, sliding the loofah along the sole of her foot just hard enough not to be ticklish. "Abuse is abuse, regardless of context. You don't have to be in a sex ring in a third world nation to have a bad way."

"I guess not." She helped him help her sit on the edge of the tub so he could clean her stomach and lower back. 

"In my experience, it is always easier to commit violence against a stranger. The fact he can even raise a hand to you, his wife, just blows my mind." He grumbled, before softening again. "Do you want to wash your vagina, or can I?"

"You can do it. Just be careful around the slit."

He got his softest wash cloth, then used his flesh hand to carefully brush against her. 

"I was never someone he loved." She admitted suddenly. "I was a genius kid in MIT who was rebelling against parents she hated by whoring herself out. He was a good lay, and I stuck around. He was way older than me, but he wanted me, so I went with him. When my dad found out, he was furious. He beat the shit out of me, then offered Ty a job, with a condition. He would get an easy ass nothing job, but he would make an honest woman of me."

"How old were you?"

"I was married off to Ty a few months after my fifteenth birthday."

He almost dropped his cloth, and her. "Holy fuck."

"I tried to run away, escape, because I didn't want to be shackled to a grown man as a teenager. Rhodey and Pepper, the friends I'd made there, called the authorities on him and hired a lawyer, but the law is that as long as the parents say yes, it's legal and binding."

"Fuck."

"Yeah." She slid back down into the tub, head ducked down. "He let me finish school, but forced me not to attend graduation so they'd have to give Valedictorian to someone else. From there, he began to threaten me and I just stopped leaving the house. I know my dad stole my work, all the blueprints I had, but I didn't ever find out what became of them. Brock was one of the few people Ty would actually leave me alone with."

"Why Brock?"

"He never tried to approach me." She sighed. "He always seemed uncomfortable around me and never, ever stood close enough to touch. If we needed to take an elevator, he'd take the stairs. Ty liked that control, how reverent he seemed around Ty's property."

He hissed under his breath. " _Ty che, blyad?_ "

She blinked at him, fingers twitching against his shoulder from where she was balancing with her left arm. "You speak Russian?"

"My captors didn't speak English." He joked. "Not to mention Nat likes to speak in Russian when she's upset or gossiping."

She nodded gently. "It's nice. You've got a good voice for the accent."

"Got a voice for the accent?"

"Before I became a live-in fuckable housepet, I met a lot of international businessmen and their children. Some people who learned other languages just don't have the right tones and pitches in their voice to make it pleasant to listen to."

"Do you speak other languages?"

"French and Italian are my best, but I used to be fluent in Chinese too. Before my dad thought I'd be better sold off, I was lined up to take over the company. I think he planned on handing it over to Ty."

"Brock told me your name is Tony. Is that what you prefer to be called?"

"Yeah. My real name is Antonia, but I hate it." She snorted derisively. "Ty and Dad would yell it when they were throwing empty liquor bottles around."

He winced. "Tony it is, then." He lowered her back into the water, running the showerhead over her skin to wash away the suds and lingering conditioner. "Bucky or James is fine for me. Whichever is more comfortable."

"Bucky." She looked him over. "Suits you a little more."

He gave her his most charming smile. "Thanks, doll." He pulled the plug on the tub, letting the water drain away before helping her stand. He grabbed a towel off the stand, one of his huge fluffy ones for when he had panic attacks and would sit under freezing water for hours. 

"I'm not going to be able to step over the edge of the tub." She said. "My hip has stiffened."

"It's okay." He wrapped her up in the faintly pink material, then cleanly lifted her off the ground. he carried her gingerly back to his bedroom, sitting her on a plush armchair. "Dry yourself off a bit. I'm going to change the sheets and get the scarring ointment."

"You don't have to."

"I know." He smiled. "I want to. You deserve a clean bed to recover in."

She watched him go, too surprised to protest any further. She watched him return, quietly whimpering when she stretched too far. He pulled off the sheet and fitted sheet, replacing when with clean, soft-looking cotton. He then slipped on a new duvet cover, one that was a pretty hotrod red. It didn't suit his Spartan room, with soft eggshell blue walls, but she- she liked it. 

"Sorry it's a little garish." He said as he replaced the pillowcase. "Natasha gave it to me, and it's the only spare cover I have."

"You don't have to do this."

"I know." He knelt down in front of her, carefully picking her and moving her to the freshly made, military-precise bed. He grabbed the ointment. "This is a scarring ointment I was given to help with my shoulder. It looked worse than this, much worse. Is it okay if I use it on you? It's antibacterial, so it will also help with the split skin."

"Yeah." She shrugged the towel off, laying down onto her side to give him better access to her right side. 

He was gentle and methodical the entire time, frowning in concentration. His fingers were featherlight and careful, spreading the ointment liberally. She had to admit, it did feel nice. It was cool without being cold and not slimy. 

When he finished, he pulled away and went to his closet, pulling out his old PT gear from Basic, stuff that was far to small after what the Russians did to him. The sweatpants and t-shirt should fit her, if a little baggy. 

"Think you'll need help putting this on?"

"Probably." She winced, sitting up. 

He got on his knees and put on the sweats, pulling them most of the way up her damp legs, then helping her stand to pull them the rest of the way up. He slid her arms into the sleeves, then pulled it up her arms and over her head so she didn't really have to move. As he predicted, the fabric was lose, but comfortable. 

"This is softer than I would expect military stuff to be."

"Yeah. We were lucky." He smiled. "Food or sleep next?"

She swayed a little. 

"Sleep, then." He chuckled, helping her back down and under the new sheets. 

"Is it-" She abruptly cut herself off. 

"Is what?"

"Nevermind."

"Tony." He cooed. 

"Stay here for a bit?" She averted her eyes. 

He immediately softened. "Of course, doll, of course."

* * *

Life with Tony there didn't change much. For the first month and a half, she recovered in calm quiet, not doing much besides making sure her muscles didn't atrophy as she waited for the bruising and cuts to go away. The next month or so, she spent loitering, unsure where she was supposed to be or what she was supposed to do. 

"I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop." She admitted one night. "I don't look like shit anymore, so I'm okay to go."

It had taken another month of easy friendliness to get her to accept he wasn't going to kick her out. And that one time he spit Tiberius' name with such venom and a litany of Russian swearing that could be timed in minutes. She opened up more then. 

She liked sleeping with him there, she liked washing things, but not making food. She was also incredibly handy, assisting him in the repair of an old clock and figuring out why the fridge began to whine. Steadily, she opened up from the mold Tiberius had her in and revealed herself to be a considerate, simple soul with a genius, restless mind always ready to create. He'd wound up buying her a sketch book and a small drafter's set to encourage her to be herself. 

She sheepishly asked him for another one a few days later. All of her drawings save one were incredibly detailed blueprints of everything from watches to thermonuclear aircraft carriers. The very last page was an elaborate sketch of him napping, hair falling down off his cheek and brushing the bridge of his nose. 

It wasn't until she'd been there a full four months that it happened for the first time. 

He woke up to a stinging cheek and a ringing head, Tony's bright eyes wide and paralysed with fear from where she was tucked against the far edge of the bed. 

"What? What happened?"

She cradled her swollen fist closer. That was when he realized he'd asked in Russian. 

"Fuck. Sorry. What did I do?"

"You were screaming." She whispered. "Something about a chair and wanting back into the ice."

He ran a hand through his hair, cursing quietly. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"You were yelling for an hour." She said, scared. "I couldn't wake you up. I had to punch you before you'd stop."

"Oh, doll, I'm so sorry." He held back the tears associated with that relived memory. "It doesn't happen much anymore, but it can. I should have warned you."

She smirked a little crookedly. "I'm not someone you've got to explain trauma to, Buck. I just . . . That was bad. You were in there deep."

"I can be sometimes." He swallowed. "Do you want me to sleep on the couch?"

"No. That will not help calm my anxiety." She looked away, trying  for non-chalance and failing. "Maybe hold me tonight, so I can feel that you're okay?"

"Whatever you want."

* * *

"It's hard to believe I've been with you almost a year." She mused, sketching out what she called the 'Iron Man Mark II'. 

"A little. Doesn't feel that long." He agreed, sipping from his Diet Coke pleasantly as they watched the waves of the Atlantic roll in. 

"I'm almost surprised a Missing Persons never went up about me."

"He's only got about a week to file it. If you'd have turned up alive and told them you ran from him, it would have been charges."

"I suppose." She leaned into him. She'd come to love to do it, being touch-starved most of her life. Barely twenty-three and already suffered to so much. "I'm mostly surprised you haven't hit on me."

"Why's that?"

"A woman living in your place, getting feely with you and sharing your bed. Most dudes would jump on that."

"Not that you're not the stuff of wet dreams, sweetheart, but there's no such thing as healing sex." He rested his cheek on her hair. "If you ever wanted me, I would have left it up to you to approach. Wounds like the ones he left on your psyche don't go away overnight. Hitting on you would have scared you more."

"You're right." She admitted. "But still. Not even a sleepy grope or anything. It's some impressive self-control."

"That's why I sleep on my back when you want to cuddle. So I don't."

"So you're a groper when you're the big spoon?"

"Something like that."

"Hmm." She nestled closer, throwing her legs over his. He tugged her in close with the arm on the back of the bench, just taking in the evening tide. "What if I wanted you to hit on me?"

"Hmm?"

"What if I asked you to make the first move?"

He looked down at her, meeting her sheepish but serious gaze. "Okay, if we're headed where I think we are, no dancing around the question."

"I want to go out with you but I don't want to do the wooing?"

He breathed out shakily. "That's what I thought you said.l

She immediately began to backtrack. " We don't- There's nothing wrong with-"

"Is this new?"

"What?"

"Is your attraction to me new?"

"No." She admitted. "I realized it two months ago and it's only gotten stronger."

"Okay. I don't want you to rush into anything. Especially with me."

"Why especially with you?"

"Because I'm a little broken, darlin'."

"You've had no problem with me till now."

"Let me rephrase: I just want to make sure you're sure. There's no strings between us, no judgement and no debt. I'll never stop you from going if you want to, but if we're in a relationship, I might ask you to stay."

"Buck, I already know where all the secret guns and knives are. What more is there?"

"Like I said, just making sure."

"I want someone to want me for once." She said softly. "Someone who cares about people. I want to experience love, Bucky, and I'm pretty sure it's starting for you. Attraction is certainly there."

"You're attracted to me, huh?" He teased. 

"is that really even a question?" She poked his six-pack abs. "I mean, honestly."

"Well, if I'd have known that was all it took . . . "

"Not to mention those gorgeous eyes, your fantastic hair and absolutely stunning smile."

"You've put a lot of thought into this."

"Look, I might have gotten myself into Ty's arms by being an idiot, but that doesn't mean I didn't learn." She sat back and looked at him straight, determination rigid on her shoulders. "No one in my life has ever treated me like you do. No one has ever patched me up, slept with me when I was afraid, overcome their own fears and worries and baggage to care for me when I needed it. No one has ever dealt with me for as long as you have and literally asked for nothing. You don't ask me to cook, clean, provide, assist, or have sex with you. You're pretty on the outside and made of solid gold from head to foot inside. I'm very, very attracted to you, and two months ago I got over my fears enough to realize it."

"Tony." He cooed, at a loss for words. 

"I'm serious." She took his metal hand, kissing the knuckles. 

"I can tell." He swallowed thickly. "I find you attractive too. You're sexy and intelligent and so considerate. I've not been the same since Russia, and everyone I knew before knows it. It's- It's been amazing not to be looked at as a fragment of a person, but whole and complete. Even with the new nightmares and PTSD flashes. Like when you pushed me into the mall fountain because I was giving myself an anxiety attack."

She couldn't help but snort at the memory. The way he'd sputtered, light returning to his eyes in the middle of a crowded mall and soaked from head to toe. Cold helped him calm down, and it was the closest thing, since she didn't have access to his pin number or his debit card. They got kicked out, but they laughed as he dripped the whole way home. 

"I definitely care about you after spending all this time with you and I would like to see if something is possibly between us."

She bit her lip. "Can we start now?"

"Hold hands on the way home then kiss on the couch?" He suggested. 

"You've got yourself a deal."

* * *

Two weeks and six dates later saw them in their bed, his hands just starting to slip past her belt. 

"Oh." She broke apart from him. "Don't worry if you can't make me come."

He sputtered. "What does that mean?"

"I'm hard to make come." She said, completely serious. 

"Oh, doll, I look forward to proving you wrong."

"Just don't get a wounded ego if nothing comes of all your hard work."

"Darlin', I've got all the time in the world for you.

| | | 

" Okay." She panted, barely able to breathe as he slipped from her, coated in sweat and satisfaction. "You totally win."

"See?" He was panting too, but not has hard as her. "What did I tell you?"

"I don't think I've ever had seven orgasms in my life, let alone consecutively." Her smile was dopey with hormones, none of her usual sharp sarcasm. "I love you, Bucky."

He reeled her in with his metal arm. "I love you too, Tony."

 

 


	2. A Kitten's Sweetheart

Of course, happiness ever lasts forever. 

He'd never considered what it meant when Brock told him she was from a high-class family. All that had mattered was the broken fragments of a woman in his arms. As she settled into his life, he didn't think more on it. He'd never even figured to ask her what her last name was. 

**Tony Stark: HEARTBREAKER**

**Infamous recluse seen wandering streets in arms of lover! Husband in shock!**

And there they were, kissing out front of Peggy and Steve's joint sandwich/ice cream shop in Brooklyn. His face was shielded from the angle and the length of his hair, but hers was bunched in his hand and enough of her face was visible. 

He opened the magazine, a sick feeling of cold dread seeping up his spine. 

**On Wednesday, the infamous recluse Tony Stark was spotted for the first time in years on the streets of New York, at an ice cream parlour with someone who is not her husband. A reporter spotted them kissing outside the parlour. The two appeared deeply enamoured, as those in affairs often are.**

**"I had no idea." Tiberius Stone, her husband, said when approached. "I was worried she was cheating, since she's been taking more business trips than normal, but I would never have guessed she'd be so brazen."**

**Stone also said he planned to fight for her, fight for their love. There's no ID yet on her mysterious lover, and the owners of the establishment were defensive of their customers, unwilling to give over their names.**

**"She means the world to me and I was lost before I met her." Stone lamented. "I can't believe she'd be so heartless."**

**Stark would not respond to any calls or messages left on her phone-**

"Sir?"

 He looked up from the magazine, realizing he was holding up the line in the grocery store. What he meant to say was "Sorry". What came out was:

"That's it, then. I've got to kill him."

The cashier blinked in startled astonishment. 

"I'll also need a bag." He put the magazine back, pulling out too much money. "Here."

"Uh, Sir, this is too much-"

"Consider it a bonus for keeping my obsession with celebrity news quiet. My friends would rib me mercilessly if they knew." He flashed his most charming smile and left as fast as possible without rousing suspicion. 

Inside his pick up, he took a deep breath, trying not to grip too hand and dent the steering wheel again. 

" _Eta suka._ " He hissed. " _Etot chertovski vreditel'."_

He threw the truck in drive. Tony was across town, coming home from her visit with Pepper any time now. He had to get to her before the reporters - or worse - did. 

* * *

She fingered her phone in her pocket, debating on whether or not to text him. She'd done her best not to become co-dependant on Bucky, but this was a little bigger than not wanting to go to a store alone. 

Pepper would have had no problem driving her if she wasn't so heavily pregnant and Rhodey was overseas. She was good on her own, travelled the city easily and did her own errands. But possibly facing reporters, reporters that would lead Ty to her and to Bucky's home- 

No, she couldn't deal with that. She very thought of Ty's henchmen banging on their door made her want to vomit. She knew Bucky was a fighter - she knew about the guns, knives and crazy workouts he did - but she never wanted to put him in that position. 

_Me: I'm at the little cafe by Pepper's. Can you come grab me?_

_Bucky: On my way, doll. Sit tight._

He must have seen a magazine. That eased her anxiety some. She didn't have to break the news. And he called her doll, so he wasn't upset about it either. 

 _Ugh, when has he ever been upset with you?_ Her inner voice chastised.  _You know full well he's no Ty. He'll probably kill Ty now._

"Well, we'll. Look what the past threw up."

She looked up from staring at the black screen of her phone to the second last person she ever wanted to see. 

"Sorry you can't age as gracefully as I do, Sunset."

The other woman snorted in derision. "If that face and those ratty clothes is acing gracefully, I'll have to bow out."

She pulled the jacket tighter, Bucky's cologne thick and ingrained in the rich leather. It was his Howling Commandos tour jacket, the one he was too big for now. Besides, he loved the look of blue on her. It had been a suggestion of Peggy's not to wear makeup, to let it sink in that there were no bruises to hide, no shame for being the victim.

"Aww, a security blanket from you sugar daddy? Your new one, anyway."

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Just thought you looked familiar. Wanted to catch up."

"There's nothing to discuss." 

"Sure there is! This new boy you're stringing along. Does he know about Tiberius' baby?"

She frowned. "I never had kids."

"Oh, right. Sorry. I meant my baby with Tiberius."

She rolled her eyes at the other woman's triumphant grin. "Have him. I never wanted him."

"Yeah you did, you little slut." Sunset laughed. "You wouldn't have so willingly spread your legs otherwise."

"I was young and stupid, fine. I didn't want to be shackled to him forever."

"You don't seem shackled now. Goin' around, fucking whoever will let you. A moocher, just like Howard always said you were."

"Yeah, well, can't please everyone."

"Mmm, not that you never gave it your best shot."

"Go park that active mouth over Ty's cock if it means so much to you."

Sunset reared back in indignation. 

"So, what? It's only okay if one of the two whores in the room gets called out? Unfair, even by your standards, Sunset."

"What did he ever see in you?"

She leaned over the table. "My father's money."

"There's not enough of it to put up with you."

"Evidently, your boyfriend's price is lower than yours."

Sunset stood in a rush, scowling thunderous. "Watch yourself, slut. Your master's going to come looking to make good on his deal sooner or later. I hope your dog can take that storm."

"He was the one that nursed me back to health after Ty turned me into a smoothie, so I think he's more than prepared. Now go, Ty's asshole won't lick itself."

As Sunset stormed out, she was furiously texting. 

_Time to go._

She went to leave, following Sunset's example, when one of Ty's bodyguards walked in. She immediately dashed into line, head down and fussing with her phone. 

_Me: Buck, hurry. Please._

"No need to pretend."

She yelped as she was pulled out of line, but the bodyguard crushed her to his side in the approximation of a side hug that was anything but friendly and far too familiar for her liking. The guard led her over to the table she'd vacated and there was Ty, prim and proper as could be. 

"Tony, darling." He stood, going to hug her

"Don't fucking touch me." She hissed, struggling against the impossible hold. "Let me go!"

"Now, now. Don't go starting a scene."

"If you just fucking let me live my life, there would be no scene!" She kicked out, her Converse leaving a streak of dirt across Ty's silver suit pants. 

"You never learn, girl." Ty said, a dramatic and overburdened sigh on his lips. Then he backhanded her across the face. 

Oh, it had been so pleasantly long since she'd been hit. She forgot how much a simple slap could sting. She felt like a bad dog caught chewing the carpet, or a cat on the kitchen table. An animal, slave to those who purchased it. 

There was a sickening crunch and the guard's grip vanished as he buckled. His knee was shattered. She fell back, still stunned, into a familiar chest, the best chest in all of New York, and was gratified when he caught her. 

"So, you're the mongrel-"

Bucky's left arm snapped out and his hand closed around his throat. She regained her senses, mostly, and looked up at him. 

Bucky's face was the equivalent of a eerie quiet battlefield - the echo of screams, pain and pleas for mercy that went unanswered. The stillness of fog rolling over a mortared village, empty of full life but haunted by that absence, ringing of death and suffering and distant loss. And that metal arm, shining brightly in the daylight, whispered knowingly about agony and despair into the skin of Ty's throat. Never in the light of midday had anyone ever looked so steeped in shadow. He looked hollow and peaceful, but felt overflowing with resentment and violent. 

" _Ty takaya zhalkaya shlyukha._ " His head tipped just the slightest bit in, hair falling across his face. 

"He doesn't speak Russian."

He turned his gaze down to her and darkness, but sweet and soft recognition, dawned in the ice of those irises. That black beast from the facility came to her defence, for her safety. She was safer with the monster than she ever had been anywhere else. She reached up, tender fingers brushing his cheek. 

" _Soldat_ , he doesn't understand."

He nodded shortly, turning his gaze back to Ty. " _Ya khochu vyrvat' yogo gorlo._ "

"Don't leave me." She whispered. 

He pulled Ty in, the darkness radiating from him almost palpable. His voice was heavily accented, and not his normal hood Brooklynite, either. "When you get the divorce papers, you will sign them. She will get what she wants. Then, you will not see her again. Do not trust your body integrity if you do."

" _Zvezda moya_ , no more." She murmured. 

" _Kotyonok._ " He released Ty almost gently, save for the angry red marks around his throat. He pressed their foreheads together for a moment before taking one last long look at Ty, as if memorizing his face and body. "I will not talk to you again."

He ushered her out of the cafe, steadfastly ignoring the onlookers who had been too scared of the massive Russian man to even pull out their phones. He made sure she was buckled into his Silverado before rounding the vehicle himself and driving away. 

"Ice, Bucky, ice." She said as he began to shake. 

"I'm not sorry." Oh. His voice was back to normal. "I'd have killed him right there, I swear to Holy Mary, Mother of God."

"I know." She took his flesh hand, squeezing it. 

"I am sorry I lost control." He sighed. "I never wanted you to see that."

"See what? A sexy Russian coming to save a girl from her abuser? You do know I read romance novels, right?"

He shook his head and she got serious. "In Russia, they- I was supposed to become a weapon. And I did. When the Howlies came for me, I didn't know them. I didn't know Steve, who's been my friend since we were embryos. I attacked them, and I seriously hurt many of them. I shattered Brock's entire pelvis, which is why he walks funny. Why we don't talk anymore. I almost killed Peggy. I shot Natasha and broke Clint's jaw. They made me into  _Zimniy Soldat,_ and that was who was in that cafe with you."

"I'm sorry that happened to you."

"I'm not telling you for sympathies, I just want you not to be scared, to understand what that was."

"Oh, I'm not afraid."

"You're-" He blinked, turning to face her. "You're not?"

"No. He just saved my ass back there." She kissed his knuckles. "I don't know why you keep warning me away from you. You're literally the best person I've ever met. Made even better why the fact you're working so hard to recover. If you can fall in love with me for all of my flaws and broken tendencies, why can't I do the same? Broken things aren't incomplete. They're altered, but beautiful in that way. So, I say, pour gold on the cracks and make ourselves something beautiful together."

His breath was shaky and she realized he was crying. "I love you, Tony."

"I love you more, Bucky-Bear."

When he pulled to a stop she realized they were at their house. He shut the truck off in the driveway and took a few deep breaths. 

"When did you learn to speak Russian?"

"When you gave me a Duolingo subscription on my phone?"

"You're a menace."

"I'm yours."

He rolled his head over to smile exhausted at her. "C'mon. Let's go inside. I wanna fall asleep with you in a sunspot."

"And you call me  _kotyonok."_

He chuckled, squeezing her hand again. "C'mon."

* * *

**Tony Stark - The Truth of Her Marriage**

He leafed through a newspaper as he waited for Tony to get back from picking up the coffees. She liked to make him try new ones every time they came and if he went up, he would get his normal double-double and be done with it. This banner was more promising than the last one had been. 

**YESTERDAY - A fight broke out in Clairemont Cafe in Manhattan yesterday afternoon over billionaire daughter Tony Stark. The two men, one identified as Tiberius Stone, got into an altercation in the middle of the store that was brief, but charged. Witnesses say that Stone assaulted Stark, and the unknown man stepped in, grabbing Stone by the throat.**

**Sources claim that Stone was actively sexually and physically abusive to Stark throughout their entire marriage. Stark was married to Stone with parental consent at age fifteen, but managed to escape a bare year ago with the help of one of Stone's friends.**

**Stone has been unwilling to comment on the issue, other than to state he will not be pressing charges.**

**Stark did not remain on the scene, leaving with the other man, and has been difficult to find for comment.**

**More will be published as details emerge.**

"Does it make you nervous?"

He put down the newspaper and took the strange drink from her. "Not at all."

She sat down across from him, pushing a milkshake-looking thing his way. 

"This isn't coffee."

"Shut up and drink it."

"We should drop by Steve and Peggy's this week. If not, they'll break down my door."

"Yeah, probably." She agreed. "But I'd like to spend more time with my knight in shining armour."

He rolled his eyes. "That was a terrible pick up line. Just because my arm is metal-"

"Shut up and drink your whipped cream."

He smirked. "Whatever you say, darlin'."

She smiled at him even as she sipped her own.

"So," Brock dropped down into the seat next to Bucky and clapping him on the back, "when's the wedding?"

Bucky almost spit his drink. Tony laughed, ringing and clear and beautiful. 

"Soon, if she keeps this up."

Brock's smile was genuine. "I'm glad for you, man. For both of you."

"Thanks."

They smiled at each other over the table and all was right with the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eta suka - That bitch.  
> Etot chertovski vreditel'. - That fucking cocksucker  
> Ty takaya zhalkaya shlyukha - You're that sorry whore.  
> Soldat - Soldier  
> Ya khochu vyrvat' yogo gorlo. - I want to rip out his throat.  
> Zvezda moya - My star  
> Kotyonok - Kitten  
> Zimniy Soldat - the Winter Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> In New York State, it is actually legal to allow/force children to marry under tha age of eighteen with consent from the parents. Notably, the child's own consent is not considered legally tenable, therefore a situation like the one Tony is in is actually, legally, possible in real life.


End file.
